Mask-A-Raid
by A. E. Stover
Summary: While at a diplomatic gala, Shiro and the team come up with a plan to separate a potential threat from reaching Allura. It doesn't work. Nothing works. Everything goes to shit and everyone is all over the place.
1. you's a fucking idiot

Standing off to the side of a lively gathering was Shiro, awkwardly flicking the mic of his earpiece this way and that as he surveyed the people of Borrea at their masked ball. He studied the Borreans' decorative preferences, finding that many seemed to gravitate towards the use of glass adornments and the autumn colors of red and gold. Courtly attire didn't seem to stray from ordinary wear, though to be honest he couldn't quite tell — all of the Borreans were trees, and he found it hard to tell if the arrangement of their foliage had changed. **(1)**

Allura, however, seemed to be able to tell at a glance who had changed out of what and which parts were new. She flitted here and there, speaking to what seemed to be every Borrean present at the ball and taking part in their foreign customs with hardly a stuttering word. She truly was a Princess. As the Black Paladin, he too was expected to partake in diplomatic conversation. And he did, whenever he could. He was lucky the Borreans were well accustomed to guests completely new to their native culture, and that they possessed kind, understanding souls.

Shiro's awkwardness here was an experience all on its own; he was usually great at social gatherings. But this one was different. This one… was a little weird.

The celebration was situated in a large clearing at the center of the enchanted forest. Alglé was filled with guests invited for the Borrean celebration. The entire upper-class populace was congregated here, while the peasants gathered around the black lake deeper in the forest. Lights and fruit adorned the bordering fauna, as well as streamers made of an unusual fabric that, while normally dull and unattractive during the day, gleamed brightly under the light of the moon. **(2)**

The musicians of Kazra invited to Borrea played a strong, vibrant piece reminiscent to orchestral waltzes back at home. They were similar to the scores that played in older films, when there was a dance for the actors. Shiro had never before attended a ball before (those were kind of not a thing anymore back home), but he'd seen enough movies to know what it was supposed to be like. **(3)**

And none of what it was supposed to be like did he see at a Borrean ball.

It really shouldn't have surprised him. He was on an alien planet inhabited by sentient, tree-like creatures and other lifeforms, and he was light-years away from Earth. The fact that the first half of the ball consisted of fierce, competitive sword fighting whilst screaming the Borrean national anthem shouldn't have surprised him. Luckily for the paladins, Keith and Allura represented them wonderfully.

Least surprising should have been the delectable Borrean refreshments — animals that Shiro could only describe as "giant insects" were prepared in every way imaginable. There were roasted cricket heads the size of watermelons, sauteed worms in a tangy sauce made from sporing shrooms, deep-fried centipede legs, filleted tarantula bellies with the hairs still attached.

The only thing Shiro could stomach was their tea, a delicacy imported from another planet. Because drinking insects was, according to one Borrean, "disgusting."

Shiro had just nodded politely and agreed. He also made sure to rub the lowest branch of the Borrean he'd been speaking to as a gesture of farewell before they parted ways. An intergalactic misunderstanding was the last thing he wanted to do as the Black Paladin of Voltron.

Shiro watched the young Borrean slowly creak away, its roots carrying it over the floor like tarantula legs, and join a group of other Borreans by a table with roasted cricket heads. Almost immediately, Shiro heard Lance somewhere nearby badly faking a cough followed by, _"Psst._ Shiro. _Shiiiro."_

Shiro easily spotted Lance in the crowd. Aside from the fact that the Borreans insisted the paladins stay in uniform, it wasn't difficult locating a humanoid creature in a room full of sentient trees. Shiro quirked an eyebrow when he noticed Lance wasn't looking his way nor coming close to him. "Is… everything alright, Lance?" he asked.

"Not so loud," came the angry hiss. Lance wasn't meeting his eye and was hiding his face behind a cup of tea and looking quite interestedly at a spot on his gloved hand. "Suspiciously hot babe, on your six. Don't make it obvious." At that last part, Lance did make eye contact with Shiro, but only for a split second. Lance was back to drinking tea and studying his glove in the next second.

"Uh," said Shiro, frowning and thinking of how to spot the "suspiciously hot babe" behind him without giving himself away. Lady Luck came to his side when one of the Borreans politely excused herself as she cut a path between Shiro and Lance. Her mask was a shining construct of yellow and green mirrors. Just as she passed by, Shiro happened to catch a glimpse of whom Lance was talking about.

A tall, thin alien with humanoid features dressed in a dark gown with small, white beads threaded through the first layer conversed with the Princess. The stranger's mask was a well-made piece of white reptilian skin stretching over the top half of her narrow face, with silvery bones fanning out from the top like feathers.

In the mirror, the stranger's glowing eyes met his gaze. Familiarity crept uncomfortably down his back. Shiro stared back at the stranger, holding the look for a long minute. Suddenly, a cold sweat broke out at his brow. He heard voices in his head, whispering over each other. They were saying—

.

 **"̰͕͓͒̃Y̼͓͚͕͈ͨ͋̏̓͌͞o̧͓̦̯̮̰͖͑ͩ̉̆u͉͓̺̩̺ͫ͒͗̊ͅ'͔̈́ͤ̒ͧl҉̖̰̭͈͕͈͇ḷ̩̠̘̘̞ͪͨ̏ͫ ̙͈̫̓͌ͥ͑ͮ͌̚m͆̓҉͙̟̣͉͎a̳̟̰̦̰̣̘ͤ͢k̦̪̞̯̀̊̒̊ͭ̿ȅ̯͙̰̲̖̪̭̉͑̀ ̜̘̤̗̈́̓̽́ͣ̎a͈̦̬̮͚̦̤ ̥̦͕̫̺͖͖ͥ̎̐ͣ͌̚f̖̆̉ͨ̆i̗ͬn̺̬̺̱͐̏̌̄ėͪ͐̀̿͐ͣ҉͚̪̗ ̺͚̩͚̠̆s̽ȯ̝͖̤͋̽ͪ͞l̟̤ͨ̐͒d͖̻̘̳̅̂ͬ̓̔͒͘ͅi̲̩͙ͤ͋̒ͨͧ̒ē̽́͗͡r̲̫̗̹͑ͩͪ̍͌͆ͭ͞.̷̹̪̦̪͓ͨ͌̓ͨͥ̉͒"͚ͥ̾**

 **̼̦̟͉̮"̮͕̤͔͉̬ͫ͆ͭ̈́̚Y̹̜͚̲̝͚̼̋ͤ͆ͪo̙̣͎̟̣̻͛ͨ̇̐ͪ̚̚ͅu̹̘͎͇̮̒̋ͥ̆ ̨ͤ̓͋̍b̞̥ͅẹ̩̥̃̊͐ͯl̹͔̱̺̟͍̺͑ͪ̔ͥ͗o̦̦͔̦͍͉͆ͣ̏̅̎̃n̘̹̥̝̿̓̀͆͗̓͒g̢̀ͅ ͍̬̻͊ͨͪ͞ţ̗̐͑͛ơ̗̻͓̪̼̂ ̩̰̹̻͌̇t̘͎͍̟̻̰̻̍ͩ͊͂͜ĥ̰͔͖̘̪̂̚ê̞̦̟̲̠͉͓ ͕ͧ̈́Ġ͕͗̀a̞̬̭̙̹͐̑ͥ͑̈́ļ̩̯̫̜̤̓̽ͯ̊ͅr͈̫̠͇̎̕a̗̲̘̟͇ͦ,̱̳̯̚ ̜͉̞̼̯̦̻͋ͪ̊̄̈́̈̔n̲͎ͦ̽ǫ̟̘̝̞̩ͨw̬͔̦̟.̰̖̺̰"̷̙͓̘̾̿̂ͣ̀ͧ̑**

 **̤̥ͩ́̾ͧ͊ͅ"̰͎͓̟͓̠̖̅ͣ̾̈́ͬ̈́T̗̙̟͎̞͕͐̽̀͒͟ͅh̯̗̔ͣ̏͋͠ḛ̹̠ͧ̾̕ ̦͙̻͚̰̖͟e̎ͫa̡̲͐̊̇̑̾r̝̺̲͉̓̒̊̚͠ț̩̬̯̩ͭ̽̓ͩ͑̋h̓̆ͯ͒͑͠l̥͕̄̉i͎̞̺̻̜͙̊̒n̵̅ͥͩ̋g̮̤̎͋ͥͦͯ̄͡ ͉͕̂̓̔͜î̴̲̫̗͈̗̼́̽ͪͬs̞ͭͧͨ̅̄̓̌ ̧̜̝̦͇̘͓̹̿r̟͉̠̝̙̞̝̔ͯë͇̳̬̤̗͎̪́̓̅͗̇ͥ͞s̜̹̯̺̥̠̫͡ĭ̢̺̹̞̯̰̄ͦͪ̂l͏̞ȉ̖͂̌e͓̥̦͎̜ͦ̉̈́n̹̪̠͔̪̤̾͂̎ͅt̩̝̥̗̫͋.̅̆̍͏̝ ͔͇̜͕ͤ̒I͉̪͍̮̫̗͛̅̚n̫̲̞͛ͣ̑̄͆c̮͕͉̙̙̞͍͂͊ͣ̎͊̂͘r̵͈̰͎̻̺̻̦ͪ͗̂ͯe͚̲͚̗̜͖͗ͪͬ̆̒ͦa͉̰̙̻̯̰s̠͂̊͒ẽͫ͊͗͛̽̓ ̜̊̌̈́̃͘t̨̬̱̖͇̘ͯ̒̓̑ͦh̸̻̣͓̰̟̊̓ͣͣ̑ͅe̙̫̠͍ͬ̓ͪͅ ̖̱̹̻̣̬͕̉ͤ̇̌̊d̝͉̜ͭ̔ͥ̎̎̌̿e͆ͯͦ̈̎̕c̡̣̦̜͈͍̑̔̈́̓ͥi͙̻̺̳͕̠ͤ̐ͮ̍̂̇b̙̘̤̼̘̖̲̊͋̈́̐̇͋ͨe̬̺̞͉̮̥̲͆͑͢l̵̞̦̫̗͔̊̍̎̂͗ ͇̜͎̂ͯ͗̏̔ͭ͒b̸̙͔̝̈͆̏͊̎̚y̗̫̤͉̫̥̱̅̌ͦͬ͒ ̇̈͏̩͔̗̠̫͇f̤̖͙̘́͑͋ͪo̞̤̘͚̞͙̊̂u̗͇͢r̛̠̐͐ͥ̽̍.̘͖̺ͩ͂̊"̹̘̝̤͙͈̱ͫ̾̈́ͣ**

 **͍̍̇̃ͭͫͫ**

"Shiro!"

Lance was right in front of him, one hand squeezing his shoulder and the other firmly at his side. A look of panicked concern filled Lance's face.

Shiro was quick to realize that Lance was the only reason why he was still standing. He was also quick to realize that the Borreans had gathered around him, their leafy branches reaching out to him in support.

"What's happened?"

"Who is that?"

"It's the Black Paladin!"

"Is he unwell?"

"Someone feed him," one cried, "He's as thin as a twig!"

"No!" Shiro straightened up. Lance's hand remained on his shoulder. He turned to the crowding trees around them. "Uh, no. No, thank you. I'm…" He cleared his throat. "Thank you for your concern. I'll be alright. I'm sorry for worrying you."

The Borreans murmured amongst themselves.

"Oh, he's okay!"

"Earthlings are like us, I hear. They need lots of water."

"Someone get him some water!"

"The Black Paladin needs water!"

Someone produced a cup of water before him, which he took gratefully. They dispersed once he reassured them with smiles and repeats of "thank you" and "no, really, I'm fine."

When they were alone again, Lance looked to Shiro with a frown. His hand was still on his shoulder.

"Do you know her?" asked Lance.

Unease chilled his bones. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure she's one of Zarkon's druids."

Lance's eyebrows shot up. "No shit?"

Shiro glanced over his shoulder at the Princess. Allura was laughing as the stranger spoke. The stranger's lips twisted into a wry look. Allura gave the stranger a dazzling smile.

Unease turned quickly into dread. "Come on," he said to Lance. "We need to get over there."

They were about to close the distance when, suddenly, a large tree descended on the two women before they could make it. It was the Borrean King, Sequoya. The stranger seemed to be on good terms with King Sequoya, even going as far as sampling the fruit hanging on his lowest branches. **(4)**

"Damn," Lance muttered under his breath. "She's close with the King. You sure she's a druid?"

Shiro grimaced. "Only one way to find out, right?"

Lance gave him a puzzled look. "…Right."

Shiro grabbed Lance by his wrist and pulled him closer. "We're keeping tabs on her. But we can't let her catch on. It'll look bad if she's not allied with the Galra, and if she is, then she won't be around for long. Look, the King's on the move. Now's your chance!" Shiro pushed Lance forward.

"Uh?" Lance dug his heels into the ground and turned wide eyes to him. "My chance for _what,_ exactly?"

"What you do best." Shiro gave him a thumbs up. "Go talk to her."

Lance stared at him. "You want me to flirt with her," he deadpanned. "You want me to flirt with a hot, potentially-evil, space alien babe."

"Yes," Shiro confirmed with all the seriousness of greenlighting any recon mission securing the safety of the universe.

A grin spread slowly across Lance's face. He shot double finger guns in his direction and clicked his tongue. "Don't worry, Shiro, my man. I got this covered." Lance winked and turned around.

As Shiro watched Lance swagger over to the stranger next to Allura, he was struck with a whole new type of dread.

Murphy's Law, the new type of dread sing-songed in his ear, existed even in space.

Shiro pressed a hand to his earpiece and moved his mic in front of his mouth. "Guys? It's me. I need back-up."

Keith was the first to reply. _"What happened? Where are you?"_

 _"Is everything okay?"_ Hunk asked. _"I see you. I'm coming over."_

Pidge replied last. _"Why is Lance trying to chat up King Sequoya's advisor?"_

Dismay came over him in waves. Oh no, his mind worried. That— That was the royal advisor?! So she wasn't— Or maybe she was, and the King didn't know yet, and—

Wait a minute. How did Pidge even know who she was?

"Pidge. Explain."

 _"Uhhhh, about what? That she's the reason Borrea isn't colonized? Prince Sequoiden has the biggest crush on her, by the way. Which means Lance should hop the fuck off if he doesn't wanna throw us all into the Borrean circle of hate."_ **(5)**

 _"On it."_

Shiro started. "Keith, wait—"

 _"…I didn't say anything,"_ said Keith.

Before Shiro could ask who did, he heard a battle-cry worthy of a Spartan at the Battle of Thermopylae. Shiro looked up.

Hunk came rushing through the open space by the entrance to the southern forest and rammed head-first into Lance's stomach. The two women reacted instantly.

"…" "Oh my goodness! Hunk?!"

Hunk hoisted Lance, who was knocked unconscious, over his shoulder, and pumped a fist in the air. "FOR BORREA!" he shouted, and was answered by an echoing cheer of "FOR ATONAS!" by the Borreans.

And suddenly, chaos broke out around them once more, as the Borreans went into a battle-ready fervor and began pulling swords out of their scabbards and screaming lyrics to War Song of Atonas.

Shiro smacked a hand to his face.

.

.

.

.

.

* * *

 **End Notes:**

 **(1)** Inspiration for naming the planet "Borrea" came from the boreal biomes on Earth.

 **(2)** Alglé literally means "clear" in Gaelic. It's to highlight the Borrean belief that the sacred grove, which in druid practice is a holy meeting site, is a place where the Borrean people can achieve spiritual clarity.

 **(3)** Was listening to "Masquerade Waltz" by Aram Khachaturian as I wrote this fic.

 **(4)** Sequoya is an alternative spelling of "sequoia," in reference to the tallest tree species on Earth. I thought it fitting to name the King of Alien Trees after the biggest tree on the face of our planet.

 **(5)** Sequoiden's name is also inspired by the sequoia tree.


	2. fuckboiproexe is BROKEN

All things considering, this just may be his greatest mission ever.

The mystery witch lady was really hot. 10/10, would totally hit that. She was tall, slender, and carried a feeling of danger and excitement around her. And yeah, to any normal dude the feels of danger and excitement were probably a big-ass sign of STAY THE FUCK AWAY. But to Lance? Rawr. He'd be the sub to her dom any day, fuck yeah.

She was wearing a gorgeous dark gown the color of a twilight sky, with tiny, pearly beads cascading down the dress like they were stars. She wore long silk gloves the color of seafoam, and the mask was a brilliant mix of elegant and edgy as fuck, and holy _shit_ were those bones? Yo, sign him the fuck up, this witch was craaaazy cool.

Her mask looked like it was bleached alligator leather, and on the top of her mask was assembled a cool-as-shit rendition of those feathers on mardi gras masks but featuring thin, skeletal bones. It looked like she'd grabbed a bird, snapped off its wings, crazy-glued it to her mask, and let it sit there for a million years until all the skin and feathers rotted away and its bones fossilized in her greatness and made her mask into THE fucking Halloween accessory in the galaxy.

If only it was in black. Le sigh.

He wiped an imaginary tear from his face and stopped mid-way when he realized— hey, that kinda looks weird out of context, and yeah, the tree-person over there was looking at him with a look of "what was that he just did? Was that an Erth custom?" Fuck. Now the guy probably thinks dramatically flicking your finger under your eye was an Earth custom. Shit. He ruined Earth culture for all of humanity. Fuck.

Also, the witch lady was staring at him.

…Was it just him, or were her eyes glowing?

Please let it just be him.

"Sup, ladies?" Lance grinned and sidled up next to Allura, throwing an arm over her shoulder. Originally, he was gonna do that to the witch lady, but glowing eyes were never a good thing, especially on a potential enemy, so he was gonna have to improvise. "You ladies enjoying a good night? Luckily for you, the Lancer is here to make it a great night." Lance winked. At Allura. Not the witch lady. Because again, glowy eyes.

Allura snorted and rolled her eyes. It was a very un-princessy sound. Her father would probably cry.

Or join her. He didn't know King Alfor all that well. He only got to see the evil, data-corrupted "KILL THE PALADINS, DESTROY THE CASTLE" side to him, so. Yeah.

"Lance, you have a leaf in your hair."

"Oh, shit." Lance shook his head. He looked to Allura. "Is it off?"

Allura's lips twitched. "Not quite."

"You've made it worse." A hand that was not Allura's nor his own reached in his hair. It plucked not one, but two leaves from his hair. Both were bright green, and looked vibrant and alive in the pale silk of the witch lady's gloves. "And there were two, Princess. Perhaps you should retire for the evening. It seems the festivities have tired you."

Allura waved a hand. "Oh, don't mind me. I just couldn't see in that rat's nest of his."

Lance dropped his arm from his once-beloved member of his fam because OH MY GOD, what the FUCK? "Excuse me? Excuse me? _My_ hair? A rat's nest? Do you even have eyes?"

Allura turned an amused look in his direction. "I'm kidding, Lance." She reached up to ruffle his hair.

Lance endured the patronizing gesture with a sour look. His earpiece crackled in his left ear.

 _"Guys? It's me. I need backup."_

Lance narrowed his eyes.

 _"What happened? Where are you?"_

 _"Is everything okay? I see you. I'm coming over."_

 _"Why is Lance trying to chat up King Sequoya's advisor?"_

Lance snapped off the earpiece with a scowl. Why was Shiro calling in backup? Nothing had gone wrong yet. Nothing. He didn't need backup. He didn't need anyone right now. He was doing just fine.

"Is that Earth jewelry?" the maybe-not-a-druid lady asked.

Allura laughed, amused. "It's a communication device." She plucked hers out of her ear and held it out. "My paladins like to keep in contact with one another. They may be young, but they're very dedicated to their roles. They insisted on maintaining clear lines of communication should anything happen during the celebration."

"I see," the witch lady only said, peering at Lance with glowing eyes. They were yellow.

LIKE GALRA EYES, his mind screamed at him. It made him freeze.

The witch lady seemed to be narrowing her eyes at him. With suspicion. Which was not good, because HE was supposed to be looking at HER with suspicion, not the other way around. The other way around meant that SHE was suspicious of HIM, which meant he couldn't keep tabs on her the right way, which meant his greatest mission yet _wasn't_ turning out to be his greatest mission at all, and _that_ would also mean his flirting abilities were shit, which would also mean that he let Shiro down and he _couldn't_ let Shiro down— HE JUST COULDN'T.

So, Lance fixed his hair, summoned one of his handsome, irresistible smiles, and went in for the kill.

"So, you single or what?"

No mask in the world could hide the stunned look the witch lady was giving him. Haha, score. 5 points for the Lancer. This mission was gonna be a breeze.

"I'm engaged."

Whoooaa, shit. No score, fuck. 0 points for the Lancer. No, _minus_ points. Shit. Damn.

"You are?"

The surprise here wasn't the fact that surprise was being voiced. The surprise was in _who_ was voicing said surprise.

Allura's brows were high on her forehead, and she was giving the witch lady (whom she probably didn't know was the witch lady) a look of, well, surprise. She stepped away from the stranger, a tight smile on her face. "Oh, that's… I'm happy for you—"

"He's dead."

"Uh," said Lance, probably in Allura's stead. And for himself. Because— "What."

"He's dead," the witch lady repeated. "He died in battle. With the Galra. He's— He's dead."

Lance watched sorrow and empathy bloom on Allura's face. "I'm so sorry," she said, reaching out and taking the witch lady's hand. "I know what it's like to lose someone close to you."

A tiny, awkward smile appeared on the witch lady's face. "It's good to be in the company of such understanding people."

Lance looked carefully at the witch lady. Then at Allura. Then back at the witch lady. He squinted his eyes at the witch lady, and bit his cheek to keep his mouth shut. It was incredibly hard to do so, because his mind was running off a mile a minute, having fun and blasting a grand old song from the greatest hub of information — Tumblr.

WHY THE FUCK YOU LYYYYIN'? WHY THE FUCK YOU LYYYYYIN'?

He couldn't believe Allura was falling for this shit. This utter, complete, heaping pile of hot, hot, hothothot, 10/10 hot, would totally hit that, would totally sub for, hot as fuck piece of ass, shit.

Fuck. She was hot.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He could totally get Allura. You go, girl. You get that ass.

"Lance? Why are you looking at her like that?"

"Hm?" Lance blinked his eyes and forced them not to widen at the sudden flow of panic coursing through his system as he realized he'd been squinting and staring right into the witch lady's eyes this whole time, shit, holy fuck , she could've bamboozled his mind with just a look and turned him into a drooling, lime-sucking baby without anybody even knowing.

"Uhhhhh," he said, because now the two women were squinting at him. "I was checking her out." he froze. "I-I mean, I was checking out her mask! It's awesome. Real cool. 10/10, would totally buy." He was hit by a sudden, brilliant idea. "Hey. Can I try it on?"

"What."

Allura smiled broadly and leaned close to the witch lady. "I'd like to indulge on that, too! If you don't mind, of course."

The witch lady gave them a long, quiet stare. Which, in Lance's book was totall s. Just saying. Finally, the witch lady spoke: "This is a masked ball." She sounded indignant, like "how dare you suggest that I take off my mask and reveal my identity" indignant. SUS! PI! CIOUS!

Allura's response was to give a teasing smile. "There's an unmasking event at the end of the ball. Usually, throughout the event, guests are supposed to pair up and guess the identity of their partner. The Borreans insisted that we stay in uniform, of course, so there's really no guessing on your part. But would you mind indulging me on my whims this evening?"

The witch lady adjusted her mask and looked away from the two. "Perhaps." Then, a sly smirk graced her features. "That is, if you are willing to indulge in a few of mine, Princess."

Lance watched the slightest hint of pink dusting over Allura's cheeks. She cleared her throat and nodded. "Certainly," she replied, her tone quite formal, "it would be impolite to decline such expectations after requesting the same of you."

Oh my god, his brain whispered, she's got it baaaaad.

And for once, he agreed with his brain. Which meant that the plan was going to smoke. Which was most definitely Not A Good Thing. A plan. He needed a plan. To separate Allura from the witch lady. For good!

Before he could think of anything, however, a thundering war-cry filled the entire forest clearing. He turned to the left to see what was going on, and—

Hunk tackled into him, his thick skull colliding right into the center of his torso and knocking him the fuck out.

His greatest mission ever just got canceled.


	3. party til ya fucking DROP

Shay told him, once, that there were other planets like the Balmera that lived and breathed and provided for its people. Borrea wasn't quite at that level of complete synchronicity, but Hunk was sure that a few million years of evolution could definitely change that.

The populace of Borrea had evolved from the energy given by the planet itself. The flora and fauna of the planet had slowly adjusted to the planet's life-giving energy and had grown sentient. Though, according to one of the priests, it was uncertain whether their sentience was the same as that of the planet itself or that of an existence entirely separate.

That was some pretty deep thinking, for a tree.

The tree in question was a very masculine character. Masculine in the traditional sense of course, because the Borreans were not a gendered species. Priest Cesil was a creature with a short, stout build. He stood the shortest of all the Borrean Priests, made so from a "sky strike" when he was still a child. His gnarled branches were thick and shook leaves every time he coughed, which he did often. **(1) (2)**

"Can I get you anything?" asked Hunk.

Priest Cesil blew away a stray leaf that lingered in his face as it fell from a branch. "Don't bother with this old bark, Paladin," he said. "I've been coughing since I were a sprout. No trouble is it to me now."

"Oh. Okay." Hunk glanced at the foodstuffs on the table regardless, with the hopes of spotting any refreshments that might relieve the old priest. But he wasn't Borrean, so all that he saw turned his stomach over instead of enticing it. "Do you guys always eat like that?" he asked, genuinely curious to discover what exactly was the usual appetite of the Borreans.

"Quite often," was the depressing answer. "All that is seen are the best tidings for Borrea. Though, lacking are we in the Brissinger." **(3)**

"What's the Brissinger?"

Priest Cesil pointed one of his branches to the center of the clearing, where a circle of stones lay on the ground and not a single soul had stepped near it. "An open pit, where we douse the remains of the dead in holy flames."

Hunk's eyebrows shot up. His eyes bounced back and forth from the quiet, sickly Priest to the innocuous circle of stones. "That's cool," he just said. "Uh, so. Is that, uh. A thing that you do often? Party hard in a place where you honor your dead?"

Priest Cesil spread his branches wide, as if holding his arms out, and faced the clearing. "Alglé is a sacred grove. Here remain the spirits of all Borreans, no matter how long gone our bark may be. And here, connected are we with our Borrea. We celebrate the success of the third orbit around Thion in memory of our people, and in gratitude of the great life given to us by our Borrea."

Great pride shook in Priest Cesil's voice. He was looking at the gathering of his people with honored delight, the sharp contours of his face smoothing from his kindly expression. Hunk admired that look, at the way the priest seemed so satisfied in the knowledge that he and all his people were connected to a great spirit.

He wanted to protect that faith.

"I think," Hunk laid his hand flat against the bark of Priest Cesil's forehead, a common gesture of respect in the Borrean culture, "that's a beautiful way to honor Borrea."

Priest Cesil shook with pride. And his cough. They were harsh-sounding fits that spiked worry despite what Priest Cesil had said.

"Are you sure you don't need anything? Water, maybe?"

Priest Cesil laughed. "Water is for the ill. What I am in need of is amhrán cogadh na Atonas." **(4)**

Hunk raised a brow. "Pardon?"

"The War Song of Atonas. Our second phase!" Priest Cesil cried. "Only a warrior is permitted to initiate it. Our war song follows the song of Borrea. It is our pledge of unity with Borrea."

"Oh." Hunk made a noise of understanding. He recalled the way the celebration had begun, with the ritual cutting of tables with swords and participants belting out the lyrics to Ode to the Great Tree. "How do you start it?"

"Why, the same way we sang Ode to the Great Tree! You raise your arms high up," Priest Cesil moved his branches to stretch up high, "Then, you must strike another warrior and cry — For Borrea!"

Hunk watched as the old priest executed an upward sword thrust at the air with one of his low branches. He garnered interested looks, but none of whom were warriors in the way of Borrea. Hunk recalled the way the opening ceremony had begun. It was very much like what the priest had described. Prince Sequoiden had thrust out his sword, slashed into a table, and declared his devotion to Borrea as the rest of the Borreans congregated around to do the same and belt out the lyrics to Ode to the Great Tree.

He was about to ask about the origin of these customs when his earpiece crackled with Shiro's voice.

 _"Guys? It's me. I need backup."_

Keith replied first with urgency in his tone. _"What happened? Where are you?"_

Worry started to churn in Hunk's gut. "Is everything okay?" He lowered his mic and tuned to Priest Cesil. "Sorry. I gotta take this," he said, quickly rubbing the lowest branch of Priest Cesil in a proper farewell before they could part. Hunk was five steps into the crowd when he spotted Shiro's uniform amongst the walking, talking trees. Shiro stuck out like a sore thumb. "I see you," he said. "I'm coming over."

 _"Why is Lance talking to King Sequoya's advisor?"_

Immediately, Hunk zeroed in on Lance. Allura mussed Lance's hair and was now talking with Lady Adelay, King Sequoya's most trusted advisor. Who was a very young, attractive, humanoid creature.

And Lance was standing in front of her, one hand at his hip and the other gesturing vaguely in the air.

Oh, no, he thought with dread. What was Lance getting himself into this time?

 _"Pidge. Explain."_ Shiro's voice sounded strained, no doubt worrying the same thing as Hunk was.

 _"Uhhhh, about what? That she's the reason Borrea isn't colonized? Prince Sequoiden has the biggest crush on her, by the way. Which means Lance should hop the fuck off if he doesn't wanna throw us all into the Borrean circle of hate."_

Oh, no, he thought again, this time with urgency. They couldn't have another planet hate on them for a grave misunderstanding like that again.

Hunk narrowed his eyes on his friend. Sorry, buddy, he apologized in his head. "On it," he stated clearly into the mic, mind already diving deep into his conversation with Priest Cesil.

 _"Keith, wait—"_

 _"…I didn't say anything."_

Hunk ignored the exchange in favor of raising both arms high up. He had no idea if he was even doing it right, but judging by the way the Borreans were quickly quieting down around him and brimming with excitement he figured he was doing alright.

Then, he charged forward.

Somehow, the Borreans must have sensed that he was heading for Lance, because they cleared the way for him quickly and smoothly. A single path opened up in the crowd, one that lead directly to Lance, and Hunk let his own brew of excitement stream out of him with a loud, battle-ready cry.

He saw Lance turn to look his way. Saw Lance's look of cheery recognition morph quickly into baffled horror once Hunk was close enough and still charging like a rhino. Hunk didn't stop for anything. He tucked his chin in, lowering his head, and headbutted Lance right in the stomach.

"Oh my goodness! Hunk?!" he heard Allura scream.

Then, Hunk caught Lance's unconscious form and tossed him right over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Just as he had seen Prince Sequoiden do earlier that evening, Hunk pumped a fist in the air and shouted, "FOR BORREA!"

All around him was the sound of ringing steel and a fierce, echoing cry of, "FOR ATONAS!"

Someone tried to jab him in the side and Hunk easily evaded him with a side-step. The poor Borrean was heading against Allura now, who swift turned and knocked the young soldiers to his feet.

"Hunk!" Allura screamed, eyes alight with fire. "What were you thinking?!"

Hunk would've responded, but the Borreans had swarmed around him. He was cast away by a sea of soldiers. The next time he looked up at where Allura was, she and the witch lady were both gone.

.

.

.

.

.

* * *

 **END NOTES:**

 **(1)** Inspiration for Priest Cesil's name comes from the Sessile Oak trees in Ireland. Oak groves were considered sacred in Celtic mythology.

 **(2)** The "sky strike" is referring to a meteor shower.

 **(3)** Brissinger is inspired by "brisingr," which is an old Norse word for "fire." It's also the name of Eragon's sword in the Inheritance series.

 **(4)** Literally means "War Song of Atonas." Atonas is influenced by "aontas," which is the Gaelic word for "union."


	4. yeah, punch 'em, pidge

The fight broke out like a hurricane tearing through a coastal town. On that evening, Pidge learned that trees could wrestle, as those without swords went for hand-to-hand combat in the Borrean way. The Borreans were loud as they fought, shouting and jeering and yelling over each other. And over that chaos was a song, sung in unison — screamed, rather, just as the way they did during the opening ceremony.

 _"Come the day, and come the hour,_  
 _For Atonas, ready are we!_  
 _Born and raised by Borrea,_  
 _So for Borrea, our life will be!_  
 _Borrea! Borrea!_  
 _We rise above all!_  
 _Shoulder to shoulder,_  
 _We'll answer Borrea's call!"_ **(1)**

It was a different song from what was sung earlier that evening. This one mentioned "Atonas," the spiritual union of the Borreans with their planet. The people held fast to the belief that their souls would one day return to the planet and be born anew. Not always as one person, as the energy of Borrea was like that of the Balmera, free-flowing throughout the planet, touching every corner, so they could one day become three new Borreans, or four, or five, even a million, who would walk perhaps not all at once, but with years in between — centuries, even.

Despite their belief of all having come from one source, there seemed to be a social hierarchy amongst the Borreans that resembled Earth's medieval structure of feudalism. It was a different mimicking; there was still deep respect shown toward the working members of the community, and members of Borrea's royal family seemed to differ only in dress and adornments to their laborers. But the royal family were absolute; their word was law.

It was a different kind of governing, from a different kind of culture. The war-mongering cries of the soldiers as they clashed swords with priests and caterers mingled with the lyrical screaming from the same groups of people. They sang their song, always in unison, with a pride and joy for their people and planet on a level Pidge could envy. There was nothing like that at home.

One of the Borreans shouted and headed right for her, an exhilarated grin on its face.

Pidge blinked at the small tree, certainly a soldier-in-training and not a soldier, and pondered for a long moment whether or not she should just step away to the side and let them be.

Then she shrugged and reeled back her arm, because — come on, when was the last time it was socially acceptable to punch a kid? A tree kid.

Pidge grinned as she readied herself for the time of her life. She, too, let out a fierce battle cry as she jumped right into the fray.

But someone plucked her right out of it. A hand literally grabbed the back collar of her uniform, lifted her up, and dropped her in the safety of the dark woods at the perimeter of the clearing.

"Hey!" she shouted as she scrambled to her feet. She adjusted her glasses and squinted her eyes at who could possibly be behind the complete and utter disrespect of ejecting her out of such a highly coveted cultural experience.

It was Keith.

He was staring at her as if she'd grown a second head.

He was about to grow a second head on his face if he didn't stop looking at her like that.

Keith crossed his arms at her. "You can't fight them," he said, speaking as if he had the authority to tell her what to do. Not to mention he was the one who'd been wrestling Prince Sequoiden at the opening ceremony as Allura screamed the national anthem beside him.

Pidge scowled. "You're such a party pooper."

Keith made some kind of displeased expression. "We're on a mission."

Pidge rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She ignored that this probably made her look like an eight-year-old child. "What's our mission again?"

Keith frowned at her. It took all the patience she had not to snap: "Don't give me that look."

"I'm not sure," Keith sighed, his face the epitome of tragic solemnness. "I can't get a hold of Shiro. He said something about a Galra mole at the party."

That didn't worry her one bit. "The Borreans have been Galra-free for millions of years. I heard that Galra ships don't even bother trying to colonize this place after a war way back when. Let's just snitch and call it a day."

Keith's worried expression turned contemplative. After mulling over it for a few seconds, Keith nodded agreeably. "Okay." His brows drew together. "Who do we snitch to? Prince Sequoiden?"

Pidge imitated a buzzer noise and made an X with her arms. "Wrong. He's in love with our potential mole."

Keith frowned. He looked out into the crowd for a few silent ticks before stretching an arm out to point at someone in the fray. "How about General Siana?" **(2)**

Pidge turned to see who Keith was pointing at. She'd met the General before. She was a hot-headed, battle-ready warrior newly appointed to the position of General after the passing of her mother. She was the third in her family to continue their prestigious military line in honor of Borrea.

General Siana was screaming and slashing the table full of filleted tarantula bellies to get to her roaring soldiers and contest them all single-handedly. The grin on her face as she parried blows with her soldiers showed off a mad ferocity that made Pidge feel like her bladder wanted to drop what it was holding.

She imagined how it would be, if they were to tell General Siana about the possibility of there being a mole for the Galra Empire here on her turf.

Pidge looked at Keith. Keith looked at Pidge.

"Nah," they both said.

Keith gestured towards the other Borreans beside the General. "What about Captain Larix?" **(3)**

They both turned to the Borrean in question. Unlike most of the Borreans, the Captain participated little in the fray, choosing instead to observe the fights as they occurred. He kept a watchful eye on every warrior, particularly on those who went up against the Prince. It was no secret that the Captain shared a close relationship with the Prince, and Pidge saw in the eyes of the Captain a man who kept logic and rationalism in high regard over all other things.

Pidge looked at Keith. Keith looked at Pidge.

"Yep." "He's our guy."

They decided Pidge would be the one to approach the Captain, and Keith be the one who update Shiro on their latest development. Despite the Captain's intimidating stature and stoic expression, Pidge found it surprisingly easy to walk right up to the Captain — ducking and side-stepping from swinging swords and limbs — and grace him with a bright smile.

"Hello," she greeted him, not at all in the Borrean way, but in her own way, with an awkward smile that cried "please let this work."

Captain Larix didn't see her at first. He looked left and right and behind and even up before thinking to look down. His branches raised and shook their leaves as he spoke, "Young Paladin," he greeted, in the Borrean way. "How do you fare this evening?"

"Okay, I guess." Pidgee glanced over her shoulder and took a step forward to evade two wrestling Borreans barrel through the space she'd stood in. "We don't have these kinds of parties on Earth. Well. Maybe except after a football game."

Captain Larix made a thoughtful hum. "Most interesting. Perhaps your football has Borrean origins?"

Pidge grinned. "I don't think so." She turned to the Captain, shaping her face to make a serious look. "Captain Larix," Pidge leaned close and adopted a hushed tone, "The Paladins have reason to believe there may be a member of the Galra Empire attending Baicrann."

Captain Larix chuffed, nostrils flaring as a humid blow of air came out of his nose. His brows furrowed together and his bark thickened. He glanced around the room. "Gualaigh!" he cursed in scorn, scowling. "I knew their rotten scent carried here. I could smell it from the moment you arrived, Paladins. They must have known you were to come here."

Pidge's eyebrows shot up. If what Captain Larix said was true (and this, she couldn't discern, for she had no idea the olfactory capabilities of the Borreans), then Shiro's suspicion of Galra presence could easily be narrowed down to one of two possible identities — a musician of Kazel (who'd arrived seconds after they had), or… Lady Adelay, the King's most trusted advisor. She'd descended to Borrea in a foreign ship, having spent some time away in another planet to gather information on the Galra.

Captain Larix's voice drew her from her thoughts. "Fear not, young Paladin! The Borreans have ways of finding Galra trash without having to lift even a single branch."

With that said, the Captain shook his foliage, brows furrowed deeply, and his leaves shook and shook and shook until — _plop!_ A yellow rat dropped to the ground. It jolted away, swaying on its hind legs as it stood drowsily at attention.

Pidge stared at it. Then stared at Captain Larix. Then stared at the rat. Then stared at Captain Larix again. "Do all Borreans keep a rat in their leaves?"

"Nonsense," said Captain Larix, "This is no Borrean tradition, nor is Palu a mere rat. Palu is a trusted ally in the war against the Galra Empire. See here, Paladin, and bear witness. Palu!"

The rat straightened up, saluting the giant tree from down on the floor. Pidge caught sight of how the rat sat on its hind legs and looked up. Its nose twitched at the ready.

"Find the Galra," came Captain Larix's order.

Pidge watched Palu scamper away in a blink of an eye. She didn't know what to think of it, but she knew the saying — to find a rat, use a rat. She guessed it would work out. Animals had a better sense of smell than most humans. Certainly, their alien equivalent should possess higher developed senses.

Captain Larix seemed to sense her skepticism, and spoke to reassure her. "Just you watch," he boasted, a prideful smile on his face. "Palu's never been wrong. Has a better sense of smell than any Borrean yet. Palu can sniff out any Galra in our planet in seconds. Watch!"

As if on cue, a sudden chorus of squeaky chittering caught their attention. Pidge strained her neck to see over the Borreans where Palu had gone. Slowly, a path started opening up between Captain Larix and… Keith?

Keith was wildly flailing his arms around his head, trying to swat the rodent out of his hair. "What the — ! Ow! Get off!"

Pidge felt horror sink deep into her stomach.

Before she could say anything, Captain Larix drew his sword. "At arms!" he declared, pointing his sword right at Keith. "There's our mole!"

Keith's eyes nearly bugged out. "What?! I'm not— Wait! I'm—!" With a growl, Keith snatched Palu as it went for another run over the top of his head. It squeaked as Keith's hand clamped hard around it.

Pidge's eyes widened. "Wait—!"

But it was too late. Keith had chucked the rodent far to the center of the clearing. It disappeared in the frenzy of a brawl fueled by Borrea's war song. Even in the midst of the chaos, there were soldiers who'd seen the tiny rodent being tossed into the fray. The reaction was immediate.

 _"He attacked Palu!"_

 _"He attacked a Borrean!"_

 _"He's the mole!"_

 _"Get rid of the mole!"_

Captain Larix bellowed in anger. "Aghaidh! Forward!"

Pidge's jaw dropped as Captain Larix lead his retinue into a mad chase after Keith, who drew his bayard and exchanged blows with the Captain of the Borrean military.

Keith was struggling to resolve the fight. "I'm not— I'm not the enemy! I'm— Will you listen to me?!"

The Captain raised his sword high. _"FOR BORREA!"_

 _"FOR ATONAS!"_ his men replied.

Keith's face paled considerably. "Shit," she heard him whisper.

Then he turned on his heel and ran.

Pidge watched their plans fly south — literally. The retinue of Borrean soldiers chased after Keith, plunging through the darkness of Borrea's southern woods. Slowly, she inched away from the noticeably barren section of the Alglé, where in she'd been occupying with Captain Larix and his men. Maybe, she thought, if she found that kid from before and punched him in the face as she screamed about Borrea, Shiro would never find out the grave mistake she'd let happen.

And maybe, Keith would forgive her, too.

Probably not. But hey! At least she'll get to say she punched a kid in the face and strengthened diplomatic ties. And who'd wanna skip out on that experience?

* * *

 **END NOTES:**

 **(1)** Lyrics to the War Song of Atonas. Lyrics heavily inspired by Ireland's Call.

 **(2)** Inspiration for General Siana's name comes from the scientific name for Jack pine: _Pinus banksiana._ It's a tree that grows well after a fires. Symbolic of her perseverance and growth, especially during times of intense hardship.

 **(3)** Inspiration for Captain Larix's name comes from the scientific name for the Larch tree: _Larix occidentalis._ It is known for its long life span and for being resistant to fires. Symbolic of his supposed ability to stay level headed in any situation. Also very symbolic of his ability to overlook the craziness of his ventures outside the battlefield. (He's not just resistant to fires in social settings, he's slow to realize he's in one)


	5. my son's gonna be a fucking tree

Shiro was politely declining an hor d'oeuvre when he heard the shout from across the clearing. "FOR BORREA!" he heard a booming voice that may or may not have been the Captain. "FOR ATONAS!" chorused a large group of Borreans. He couldn't see what was going on, but he could tell from the way the crowds were moving that a chase had ensued.

Save for the way the crowd moved out of the way to make a path out of the clearing, everything was still exactly the same. All around him was the discord of Borrean celebration. Loud singing coupled with war cries, ringing steel, and heavy thuds from hard-hitting branches. He wanted to check in with the team, but he couldn't. Not because the commotion was so loud — which, it really was — but because he'd been run into from behind and lost his earpiece to the heavy root-slash-foot of a Borrean. Coran was gonna throw a fit.

He couldn't get a hold of any of others. Pidge had melted into the crowd; last he'd seen, she was roughhousing with one of the Borreans. Lance was still knocked out cold, and Hunk had taken him back to their shared quarters. The only one left with the ability to keep an eye on Lady Adelay was himself and the Princess.

The two women had disappeared into the crowd when the fights broke out, but Shiro could spot Allura from a mile away. Of the paladins, she was the only one out of uniform. As the Princess of Altea, she had dressed accordingly to exemplify her status to follow the customs of the nobility in Borrea. As it was, it was easy to spot Allura's white hair and glittering gown. Borrea made it easier by making her don a crown of red and gold leaves atop her silvery hair — an ornament given only to visiting nobility.

Shiro dodged and ducked and twisted and turned through the chaos to draw closer to Allura, whose back was to him as she engaged in a lengthy discussion about the state of affairs in Kazra with one of the musicians. Lady Adelay was at her side, and the moment Shiro stepped within hearing range the masked woman glanced her way.

He froze. A cold bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face.

She had yellow eyes.

His heart thumped loudly in his chest, even when the masked woman finally turned away. Louder than the sound of the Borreans celebrating was his own blood rushing in his ears as cold fear slipped into his bones.

He had to get Allura away.

Shiro dashed forward, his feet carrying him swiftly through the crowd. He was close enough now to reach out and grab Allura by the shoulder, urgently pull her aside, and inform her of the imminent danger to them all. So he did.

He stuck his hand out and made to grab her shoulder.

Only, a young, thin Borrean was pushed into the space between him and Allura. She looked to be on her way to the western exit, where the other young Borreans were waving her over. The dreadful timing that the universe imposed upon him made it so that, instead of grabbing Allura's shoulder, his hand grabbed a thin, brittle twig on one of her low-hanging branches. It snapped in his hand.

She shrieked.

So did he. Internally. Externally, he was made paralyzed and stared in horror at the twig he had just broken off a Borrean's branch — which, he supposed was the equivalent of breaking a finger right off someone's hand.

Some defender of the universe he was.

Allura whirled around, eyes wide in alarm. She stared at the twig in his hand. Lady Adelay's full attention was on him, as well, her yellow eyes boring holes into his head with all the intensity of a bright star.

Shiro quickly tried to make amends. "I'm so, so sorry—"

The Borrean grabbed him and held him off the ground so that they were face-to-face. His heart wrenched when he saw the sap dripping from her eye holes. All he could think at that moment was, "Shit, she's gonna break me now." His mind raced wildly, desperate for a solution that would fix everything he'd put himself in.

He saw the Borrean open her mouth. He braced himself for a shrieking wail, a violent scream, a pained slew of curses. But something entirely different came out of the Borrean's mouth.

"I accept!" she cried.

Shiro stared. "Um," he just said. He was suddenly being crushed against the Borrean's front side, branches thick and strong around him to keep him in place. He was very confused.

The Borrean made a shrieking noise, which could have been an exclamation of joy. This, he presumed because of the way she swung side to side in a dance as the Borreans around them began to break into applause.

Shiro was slightly dazed (and had a few splinters on his face, probably) when he was finally released and set down on the floor. He stared at the humming, swaying, giggling Borrean in front of him, who had taken to dance slowly in a circle around him. Allura was staring at him with her mouth agape. That plunged his concern further. Never had he been so confused and worried as he was now.

A large tree, thick in the middle with long, brittle branches, pushed through the crowd. "Paladin!" he cried. Shiro only managed a yelp as he was lifted off the floor again and raised high in the air. "It is a great honor!" said the Borrean, who had sap leaking from his eye holes. "I bless this holy union, in the name of Borrea! May your saplings be as numerous as the stars!"

Shiro's mind ground to a halt. It struggled to chug forth a single thought.

What…

…the

…fuck?

…

?!

Panic ran cold in his veins. "Wait!" he said, but it was too late. The other Borreans were already clapping and cheering.

The Borrean father set him down and turned to the crowd, who had all paused in their celebration of the second round to give them an audience. "Let us celebrate!" he declared. He drew his sword and pointed it high in the air. "To the union!"

The crowd did the same. "TO THE UNION!"

Shiro turned his horrified stare from the crowd, to Allura, to the young Borrean, and then, finally, to the father. With not a moment too late, because the parent was swinging his sword down on his head.

He leaped out of the way. The ground shattered as the heavy sword made contact with the forest ground. A chunk of the earth splintered from planet's crust. Dust flew up into the air. The sword swung at him again.

Shiro met the blade with his Galra arm. He heard the sharp clang as the two metal weapons clashed; he felt the hard tremors vibrate painfully up his shoulder and through his whole body. He was staring wildly at the Borrean warrior's ferocious look of glee. "What are you doing?!"

The old Borrean withdrew his sword arm, using his weapon to gesture wildly around them. Shiro had to duck to avoid getting a new haircut. "The proposal, my boy! We must celebrate! Come! The first one to land ten hits shall name the first sapling!"

With a wild whoop, the Borrean raised his sword again.

Shiro paled.

"Oh my god."


End file.
